The Housekeeper's Daughter
by VesperLogan12
Summary: "Six-year-old Angelique Bouchard stared out across the dirty streets of Liverpool, her face pressed eagerly against the filthy glass of the window." Living in the attic of the Collins Mansion, 1758, Angelique dreams of being able to explore the world around her, but what happens when she makes her dream a reality and is found by none other than the young Barnabas Collins?
1. Angelique

**A/N: I will not be writing anymore of this until my other Dark Shadows fanfic is finished, but I thought I'd post the first chapter to see what you guys thought of this, so please let me know if you want me to continue, because if not many people are interested, then I'll just delete it :)**

Six-year-old Angelique Bouchard stared out across the dirty streets of Liverpool, her face pressed eagerly against the filthy glass of the window. The streets were already thronging with people, busy buying wares for the day ahead. She had never been further than the estate's grounds before and this was as close as she got to the roads she longed to wander. She wished she could go, if only for a day, and be in among all the excitement. Yet she wasn't allowed. Her mother was a servant and one that rarely left the house. Even when she did, she wouldn't take Angelique with her. She would tell her that she needed to practise her sewing or give her something to polish. Nothing valuable mind, a six-year-old couldn't be trusted with a silver candlestick.

It was all part of her training. Angelique would be a servant too, when she was old enough. Not that she wanted to be. She didn't want to have to slip around the big, old, creepy mansion, unseen to everyone other than the other servants. She wanted to run her own company, like Mr Collins did, but there was no chance of that. That's what her mother had told her when she had scolded her daughter for even thinking about something so absurd. She was a woman; women didn't run companies. Women worked as servants or spent their days sewing or looking after their children. However, Angelique thought that was boring. She wanted to be able to read and write, to learn about the world, but girls didn't get an education like that. Most girls didn't get one at all. The men thought people like her didn't need one. Only, that left her destined to serve for all her life, like her mother was doing, and her grandmother had done before her.

"Angelique Bouchard, get down from there immediately!" Lucille reprimanded, coming in through the door to find her daughter straining to look out of the tiny window whilst standing on a wooden crate. Angelique jerked as though scalding water had just been poured over her and jumped down. "How many times have I told you not to go up there? You make your dress filthy, just look at it! C'est honteuse!"

"Je suis désolée, maman," Angelique whispered, lowering her head.

"Sorry is not good enough. Now go clean yourself up! You can't go around looking like that!"

"Yes, maman."

"I don't know what you think you were doing looking out like that; filling your silly head with fantasies no doubt." Lucille looked accusingly at her daughter. "Well, no good will come of it, Angelique. Your place is here, and don't you forget it."

Angelique opened her mouth, thinking of what to say, but once again she was cut off by her mother.

"What are you standing there for? Get a move on, we have work to do! And stop that foul gaping; you look like a fool!"

Angelique did as she was told before turning and scurrying out of the room.

Her dress wasn't too bad, she thought, looking in the cheap bit of glass her mother had managed to salvage in one of her few trips to town. By now, even though she was only six, she had learnt to wash her clothes and was highly accomplished at getting rid of dirt to a satisfactory standard in her mother's eyes.

Fetching a damp cloth, she went back to the mirror and carefully attempted to sponge away the dust, but it seemed to be stuck. It just wouldn't come out and she was reluctant to make the front of her dress too wet. She had to wear it all day and she did not want to become unwell; not with all the weird remedies her mother forced her to swallow when she did.

"Hurry up, girl, we don't have all day!" came Lucille's strict voice after a few minutes, making Angelique jump. The attic walls were thin where the servants lived and her mother's voice was loud. Not that anyone could complain; Lucille Bouchard was the head housekeeper.

Angelique frantically wiped at the dress, leaving huge wet streaks down the front. But the dust was still being stubborn and so, eventually, she gave up and laid the cloth out so it could dry. It would have to do. Hopefully her mother wouldn't notice for once, she thought, but, in the back of her mind, she knew her mother's sharp eyes could never miss it once it had dried. It wasn't that she didn't love her mother, for she did, but she just didn't understand how someone could be so strict on their own daughter. She spent most of her time trying to please the austere housekeeper, but nearly everything she did was wrong. It seemed she could never do anything right. If it wasn't her posture, it would be that she had a speck of dirt on her nose, or if she had done her sewing correctly, then it would be that she hadn't done enough in the time her mother had gone and come back.

"Whatever have you done to it, Angelique? It looks dreadful!" Lucille admonished, spotting the dark smudges as her daughter came up to her.

"Désolée, maman, it was–"

"No, I don't want to hear your pathetic excuses. Now come along, I want to get you started on your sewing before I'm called down."

"Yes, maman," Angelique answered quietly and obediently followed her mother to their own rather small, but private room before getting out her sewing from under the bed. For the past few weeks, she had been trying to embroider a little songbird onto the scrap of white linen she had been provided with. She was quite proud of it, but she only wished it could have been more colourful for her mother had only managed to find crimson and ochre coloured thread at an affordable price.

"Let me see what you did yesterday then?" Lucille asked, with a seemingly bored expression on her face. She did not expect much, but held out her hand expectantly. Angelique silently passed it over, feeling a bit nervous. Even though she was pleased with it, she knew there were several mistakes that she was sure her mother would pick out. And she did.

"There are lots of errors in this, Angelique. Just look at that cross stitch, c'est horrible! However, at least I can tell what it is this time, I suppose in that sense, it is an improvement."

Angelique's jaw nearly dropped open in surprise, but, fortunately, she managed to keep it in. She could not, however, stop her mouth twisting up into a triumphant smile. That was high praise coming from her mother!

"What are you grinning at, girl? This is far from perfect," Lucille snapped, carelessly handing it back and making Angelique's face drop. She should have known it was too good to be true. It seemed her mother couldn't praise her without lagging something bad on the end.

At that moment, a bell rang loudly from the wall opposite.

"It seems I'm wanted in the dining room," Lucille said, glancing at the arrangement of bells. "I'll be back up later and I expect you to have got on with this. Also, there better be some improvement. Practise that cross stitch."

"Bien sûr, maman."

"Good, and stop slouching," she added as she got to the doorway. "It's very un-ladylike."

The young girl sat up straighter, but as soon as the door had shut and her mother's footsteps had faded away, she relaxed again. She couldn't grasp how anyone could bear to sit so straight; it was so uncomfortable and it hurt after a while! Sighing, she picked up the needle and thread and started working on the spindly legs of the bird, practising the cross stitch as she'd been told.She wished she was allowed to wander the grounds  
instead of being cooped up. What fun it would be to explore every nook and  
cranny instead of having to take a sophisticated walk with her mother…

**A/N: French translations are:  
C'est honteuse - It is disgraceful  
Je suis désolée - I am sorry  
Maman - Mum/Mummy  
C'est horrible (you can probably guess) - It is horrible  
Bien sûr - Of course  
I think that's all... sorry if my french is wrong at any time, I am nowhere near fluent! (However much I wish to be) Please let me know if something's wrong!**


	2. A Little Bird

**A/N: Thanks to linalove, AngeliqueBouchard1972 and dionne dance for reviewing! :) Sorry if this sounds a little rushed, please let me know what you think!**

Angelique barely managed ten stitches before her mind began to wander again. The little bird on her linen was nearly complete. It was only missing a claw and it made her wonder what it would be like if it was alive. Would it have that wonky wing, a missing claw and lopsided eyes? Or would it be perfect? It would be such fun if she could have it as her own little pet, something to keep her occupied during the long, lonely days when all the servants were working. Yes, it would be lovely to have to have such a bright bird as her own. It could sing for her and she could teach it to do little tricks like the Collins' dogs. She would have to give it a name, maybe something like Marlène or Sèraphine, meaning to –

Angelique was jogged out of her daydream by the sound of tiny flapping wings. Looking up curiously, she tried to find the source of the noise, but was confused when she found that there was nothing there. Sighing, she realised it must have just been her imagination going overboard and went to go back to work.

Except that, when she looked down, needle poised to finish off the bird's claw, she got the biggest shock of her life. There was no work to go back to. Laid on her lap was the scrap of white linen, but there was no bird embroidered on it. In fact there was nothing at all. It was as though she'd never stitched anything!

A shrill tweet had her looking up to the eves once more. There, she got another big shock. Something her eyes had somehow missed a moment ago. A fiery coloured bird was hovering near the ceiling, one wing slightly bent, with a crooked eye and only one claw.

Angelique gasped. The needle dropped to the floor. What was going on? How had that happened? She hadn't done anything! She couldn't be… no, she definitely wasn't one of… _them_. They were evil; burnt at the stake for spreading their sin around the world. It had to be the thread. The vendors must have been selling it off cheap because it had magical qualities and no-one would buy it. Maybe her mother hadn't realised. Yes, that was what it was. The thread. Not her.

Suddenly, as she watched, entranced by the delicate creature suspended in the air, it wobbled. And again. Angelique stood up, her eyes fixed on the little thing. It looked like it was going to fall; like it couldn't keep its strength up anymore. She couldn't let that happen. It was her fault after all. Then it did fall, circling around and around as it dropped, chirping desperately. The young girl jumped forward, hands outstretched and landing on the floor with a loud crash. She winced at the sound, but she'd caught it. The bird was safe.

Tentatively, she opened her hands. The little thing looked a bit shaken with its feathers all ruffled, but, thankfully, it was unharmed. Angelique smiled, admiring the glossy crimson feathers as it lay in her palm. But then, all of a sudden, it seemed to realise where it was and started to struggle to get up.

"Hey, shh, I'm not going to hurt you," the child murmured, but it seemed it wasn't like in the fairy-tales she'd been told. The bird didn't listen, and eventually, after straightening itself out, it took off, heading for the open door.

"No! You can't go that way! Angelique cried frantically. She couldn't allow anyone to see it! What would they say to seeing a red and yellow songbird? One who was missing a claw, had one eye lower than the other and a wing at a weird angle?

Quickly, she jumped up and ran for the door, shutting it just in time. However, the bird only twittered and darted the opposite way. Angelique realised too late that her mother had left their small window open and the bird flew out before she could do anything, leaving her standing there in dismay. A part of her felt sorry too, for it would have been nice to have a little secret and to have looked after it all by herself. Who knew how long the bird would last out there in the cruel world?

Then her mind turned back to reality. She looked back at the linen on the floor. What was she going to do now? How on Earth was she going to explain the disappearance of her sewing? There was no way to explain without getting herself into a lot of trouble. The only thing she could do was start something new. She still had a bit of thread left and she could only pray that her mother didn't question it, even if that was highly unlikely.

However, it was the only thing she could think to do for at least then she could show that she'd done something that day. Her mother would be furious if she thought her daughter had done nothing useful all day.

* * *

Hours later, she'd started the head of a cat, using the red thread for the eyes, mouth and little button nose and yellow for its fur. She was just about to start the inside of the ears when the door opened. Looking up, Angelique saw the familiar shape of her mother in the dying light. She quickly sat up straight.

"How have you got on?" she asked, coming over to inspect her daughter's work for the day. "What happened to the bird?"

"I… it…" Angelique stuttered, avoiding her mother's eyes. Her gaze came to rest on the tiny fireplace, where the fire had long since gone out. "It went wrong and so I burned it." The young girl regretted her words as soon as the housekeeper's eyes narrowed to slits, but it was too late now.

"You. Did. What?" Her eyes scorched through Angelique. "You really think we can just burn things regardless? Do you know how much that piece of linen cost me?"

"Désolée maman."

"And for goodness sake, parles l'anglais, you stupid child! We are not in France anymore and it would do you good to remember that. Now, tell me where you got this linen if you burnt the last piece."

"I… I found it under my bed. I think I split one piece in half a while ago because it was too big," Angelique lied.

"Well, for being so wasteful with burning your last piece, you can go to bed without any supper."

"But, maman–!" the young girl protested. This wasn't fair, she hadn't actually done anything wrong!

"Don't argue with me, Angelique. Now let me see this sewing before you get ready for bed." She snatched the linen off her daughter's lap and immediately frowned at it. "Dear Lord child, can't you get the eyes level? It looks ghastly! And where is the cross stitch I asked you to practise?"

The young girl's heart sank. In all her excitement that morning, she hadn't done it. She'd forgotten.

"You are a disgrace! Go get ready for bed. Now!" she added when her daughter didn't move.

Angelique nodded meekly and did as she was told, washing and changing into her nightgown as quickly as she could.

She looked down when she saw that her mother was waiting for her when she came out of the bathroom, standing with her hands on her hips impatiently.

"Good, now go to sleep. I'm going down to eat with the other servants and you'd better be asleep when I come back up, understood?"

"Yes, maman," the young girl murmured as she climbed into the hard and uncomfortable bed.

"Goodnight." Lucille blew out the candle her daughter had lit earlier and shut the door on her way out, plunging the room into darkness, but Angelique knew she would not fall asleep. She could tell it could only about six o'clock. She normally didn't go to bed until eight or nine at the latest. There was no way she could get her brain to switch off so soon.

So instead, as she lay under the thin covers, her mind wandered back to her earlier thoughts. She was going to do it. She had to get out of this room somehow. To have a few hours freedom. However, she needed to explore the house without being seen by anyone, and when could she risk never being seen? At night? When her mother was asleep? She would only be a few hours, back in bed long before anybody woke up.

Yes, that's what she'd do. Starting that evening, every other night she'd wait until her mother was asleep and then sneak out and explore every nook and cranny of the house. Angelique smiled in excitement. It seemed she was getting her little secret after all.


	3. Sèraphine's Warning

**A/N: Thanks to linalove, dionne dance and the guest who reviewed the last chapter! Just so you know, I've nearly finished my other fanfic so I will have time to update this one more often (hopefully)!**

**Guest: Aw, that's really sweet! Hope you enjoy this chapter :) **

Angelique lay awake for hours, tossing and turning on her small, hard bed as she waited for her mother to come back. She decided that it must have been nearly midnight before the housekeeper finally retired for the night and slipped into the bed next to Angelique's. Then the young girl had to wait for what seemed like another forever before hearing her mother's soft snores echoing around the room. Only then did she risk getting up.

Swinging her legs out of the side of the bed, she slowly pressed her feet on the ground, testing for any creaky floorboards. On finding none, she got up and carefully made her way to the door, tiptoeing her way past her mother's bed and into the hallway. However, she knew she wasn't safe yet, she still had to get past all the other servants without stirring any one of them. So, hesitantly creeping past the doors, she headed for the small, rickety staircase at the end of the corridor, wincing when she accidently stepped on a floorboard that let out a low creak. She froze for a moment, all senses alert, listening, watching for anything that would tell her she was about to get caught. However, it seemed nobody had heard, and so, breathing a small sigh of relief, she continued, soon reaching the steps and hurrying down them into the dark corridor below.

When she reached the bottom, it only took her a moment to realise she'd made one simple mistake. She'd forgotten a candle. The passageway before her was pitch black and there was no way she'd be able to see without one. Yet, she couldn't go back. There was no doubt she would wake someone up if she passed through that corridor three more times. She would already have to do it once more and that was a risk as it was. She would just have to manage without. Hopefully the rooms would be lit up with moonlight anyway which would only leave the servants' corridors that she would have to feel her way through. She already slightly knew them for she went down them each morning for her daily walk in the grounds. Something her mother insisted on doing, something that was done long before the house was up, sometimes even before dawn had broken.

As she moved down the corridor, she began to get a fluttery feeling of excitement in her stomach. She was finally doing something rebellious, something her mother would never let her do if she knew. That made it exciting. She couldn't wait to see the rooms and explore. She'd always imagined them to be really big, to be decorated with grand portrait of the Collins' family, the ceilings adorned with huge, glittering chandeliers. Well, that's what she'd heard from the other serving girls that she'd eavesdropped on during supper.

Nearly bumping into the wall and managing to turn the corner at the last second, she found herself faced with a door. She knew this was the door into the kitchens, but from there she could go anywhere as long as she remembered the way back and so, slowly opening the door, she slipped through and up the stairs opposite, leaving her in a huge hallway with ceilings that seemed to be right up in the sky.

Gazing around, Angelique wondered what room she should try first and eventually decided that she would work her way through all in that corridor, starting with the room opposite the kitchen stairs. Nervously, she turned the handle, hoping that what was inside wouldn't be a disappointment.

Of course, it wasn't. Three huge bay windows in the wall to her left let in the soft moonlight, illuminating the glass chandelier that the other maids had described. Except it was more beautiful than she could have possibly imagined. The sparkling shards of crystal hung down like tear drops below the beautifully white candles that sat in their twisting metal holders. There was more metal linking it all together, curling and spiralling up to where it joined the ceiling. Angelique wondered how on Earth it could be more magnificent when lit if it was already so beautiful now. However, she eventually managed to tear her gaze away from the ceiling to the massive fireplace at the far end of the long table. She walked over, marvelling at the two huge creatures on either side of it. Gently she ran her hand over one, only to find it impeccably smooth and cool. She looked up at the head, trying to figure out what it was. A long trumpet -like muzzle made it look a bit like a horse, as well as the knobbly mane of thick spines, except that it ran all the way down its back to the tip of its tail. She had no idea what it was for she had never seen anything remotely like it. It didn't have legs or arms, or hands or feet, so it couldn't have been something that lived on land.

Still thinking, Angelique turned back around and walked up the empty, wooden table with its eerily lit chairs and back up to the door. Giving what she assumed was the dining room one last glance, she turned and carefully shut the door behind her, going and opening the next door into a room that looked more like a sitting area. This one was definitely a lot more homely with its deep crimson drapes hanging from the windows and the intricate and sophisticated sofas and armchairs surrounding a fireplace not quite as grand as the other one had been. There was also a large box on legs with strange black and white rectangles in a row and a plush stool sat in front of it. Angelique had not a clue what it was and instead shifted her gaze to the walls, all of which were completely covered by a dozen or so large portraits of what looked like the current Collins' family and their ancestors, although it was hard to tell who they were in the dark.

Angelique walked over to the one of a pretty lady dressed in a delicate looking white gown, an open parasol resting against her shoulder and opening up behind a head of brunette ringlets, falling delicately over one shoulder. Looking closely, she saw that the woman was none other than the present Lady Collins, of whom Angelique had glimpsed strolling the gardens with her husband a few times when looking out of her window.

She was moving over to the portrait of a small black-haired boy when a sudden chirping had her heart missing a beat in shock. Turning round, she soon spotted the source of the noise and a small smile lit up on her face. The crimson and ochre songbird she had sewn earlier was hovering in the air behind her. It chirped again, louder this time and the smile fell from Angelique's face. If it kept this up then someone would hear her. Then she would be in deep trouble, and not only from her mother.

"Shh," she tried to calm it and turned back to the portrait, hoping that when it didn't have her attention, it would be quiet.

However, it didn't work, it only landed on her shoulder and tried to twitter into her ear, getting louder and more frantic as Angelique ignored it, trying to admire the portrait in front of her. The portrait of… she squinted to read the name at the bottom… Barnabas Collins. She reached out a hand to trail her fingers along the frame when an authoritative, but young sounding voice rang out through the room.

"What do you think you're doing?"

Angelique gasped and span round in horror, only to come face to face with none other than the boy in the portrait. The young Master Barnabas.


	4. Young Master Collins

**A/N: So this is a quick update, but I wasn't in the mood to update my other ones, so here we are :) Thanks to linalove, Marciella and dionne dance for reviewing the last chapter. I hope this one satisfies! :D**

"Maître," Angelique breathed, clumsily curtseying. What was she going to do now? Would he tell on her? Why hadn't she taken more notice of the bird?

"Who are you? Why are you here?" he asked, standing up straight with his hands on his hips and clearly trying to be like his father.

"Je suis désolée, maître. Je… je…" She trailed off as she realised she'd spoken in fluent French.

"Who are you?" he repeated. Angelique swallowed.

"I'm the Housekeeper's daughter, Angelique Bouchard."

He seemed to relax slightly at her words which made Angelique wonder whether he'd thought her an intruder. "Well, what are you doing out of bed?"

"I… I wanted to see the house. I've never been down here before and I wanted to know what it was like," Angelique said, then realised it sounded a bit weak. She looked up at him uncertainly, but immediately looked down again when she saw two dark eyes frowning at her. "I'm sorry."

"How old are you?"

Angelique looked up again, startled. "I'm six."

"I haven't seen you around before. Where do you stay in the day?"

This time it was Angelique's turn to frown. He was chatting with her? The master of the house was chatting to a servant's daughter in the middle of the night? "I stay in my room, master."

"Oh, do you play with your toys when your mother works?" His voice had completely lost the authoritative tone it had had a moment ago.

Angelique frowned again. "No, I don't have any toys. I sew and embroider."

"Really?" He looked shocked. "Mother does that. It looks so dull."

"Well, it can get a little boring, but my mother says I have to learn so I can mend my own clothes when I'm older."

"Oh, Father says I have to learn arithmetic so that I can take over the business when _I'm_ older. That's why I have a tutor. Although, he says we may move soon and start a fishing business in America."

"Oh." Angelique didn't know what arithmetic or a tutor was, but she didn't dare ask. She was already in enough trouble as it was. However, Barnabas didn't seem to notice her confusion and continued the conversation.

"Have you ever been into the city? Mother has taken me a few times." Angelique shook her head. "It is disgusting. The filth that lines those streets… I don't know how those people live like that. It smells like ripe chamber pots!"

Inside, the young girl felt a bit disappointed. She'd always imagined the streets she'd daydreamed walking along to be exciting and a real treat, but from what Barnabas was describing, they sounded even worse than being in the house day after day. Perhaps that's why her own mother never took her, she thought to herself, because they were so horrible.

"So what were you looking at in here? The portraits?" Barnabas asked, pulling Angelique from her thoughts.

"Yes," Angelique said softly, turning back around to admire the paintings.

"It is incredibly dull posing for them. Do you know I had to stand for hours in that pose while that Pinter man painted me? I ached all over by the end of it."

Angelique stopped herself from pointing out that most of the servants ached all the time.

"That one is Mother, she's so pretty, don't you think?"

"Yes, if only I could paint that beautifully. They're so lovely, especially the ladies in their dresses. I wish I had a dress like that."

"Mother has lots, all in different colours. I think she likes the navy ones best. She wears them the most, although, she only wears her best when she goes out or Father holds a dinner party. I don't like those dinner parties. The ladies get all giggly around the men and clutch onto their arms. Luckily, I am allowed to go to bed after a couple of hours so I don't have to put up with them."

"I'd love to go to a dinner party and get all dressed up. Anything other than wearing my blue pinafore or the black dress."

"You only have two dresses?"

"Yes. I don't need more than two. One for every day and one for special occasions."

"Like church?" Barnabas asked.

"Well, we don't really go to church…" Angelique fiddled with the front of her dress awkwardly as she noticed that Barnabas was staring at her with wide eyes, his mouth gaping open.

"You don't go to church?" he asked in horror.

"We can't, so we have our own service here, in the servants' quarters. My mother takes it."

"Oh, right. Well I suppose you don't need as many dresses then."

Before Angelique could reply, there came a twittering from her shoulder and the little bird rose up, as if stretching its wings.

"You have your own bird?" Barnabas asked, his eyes widening. "It's rather unusual colours."

Angelique didn't know what to say. She couldn't tell him about the fact it came from a piece of sewing she did. He would accuse her of being a witch!

The bird fluttered back down again and nestled close to her neck, as though it was trying to show that it did belong to her, leaving Angelique no choice but to admit it was hers.

"Yes," she said. "It was hurt and landed on my window ledge, so I'm looking after it until its better again."

"Oh, does it have a name?"

"Um…" Angelique thought for a moment. "She's called Sèraphine."

"That's a pretty name, what does it mean?" Barnabas wasn't looking at her, instead, he had his head cocked, watching the little bird on her shoulder intently.

"It means fiery one. I named her that because of her colouring."

"Can I hold her?"

"Well, yes, if she'll let you." Angelique reached up to her shoulder, hoping that Sèraphine would hop onto her finger so she could pass her over, although confused as to why the bird seemed to want to be with her now after seeming so scared of her earlier.

Luckily, Sèraphine seemed to understand and instead of letting Angelique take her over, just flew over and perched on the young boy's outstretched hand.

"She's so light!" he exclaimed in shock, making Angelique giggle a little. "It's as though she's not there at all. You're so lucky! I wish I could have a pet bird."

"Well, we could share her if you want, master?" Angelique said as Barnabas' hopeful eyes followed the bird as she glided back to her owner.

"Really? But we never see each other, unless… we could have nightly visits!" His eyes lit up with excitement. "It could be our secret. You share Sèraphine and I will show you around the house."

"Would you?" Angelique asked eagerly. "I was worried I'd get lost, but if you know your way around then I'd be…" she trailed off as she suddenly thought of what would happen if someone found out. "Your Mother and Father wouldn't be very pleased if they found out you were talking to me, would they?"

"I promise I won't tell them. As I said, it will be our secret."

"Well, I can't come every night, I can't risk any of the other servants hearing me."

"Well, how about two or three times a week?" Barnabas suggested, adamant that he was going to get his way. "I would like to be friends."

Angelique was taken aback. Surely this wasn't right. A boy of his class couldn't be friends with a serving girl, could he? However the thought of losing her new friend so quickly was something she found she couldn't bear thinking about, so she chose not to ask. "Me too."

Barnabas smiled at her, his dark eyes now a warm dark chocolate colour. "Shall we meet here at midnight on Thursday then?"

"Okay, I'll try, but if I don't arrive, then it's probably because I can't get away from my mother."

"Good, well, we should probably be going back to bed now. I suspect it will be dawn in a few hours and you look rather tired," he said as Angelique yawned.

"Well, goodnight, master."

"Goodnight, Angelique."

She watched as he walked out of the room before finding her way back up to the serving quarters, managing not to wake anyone, even in her state of excitement.

As she got to her room, she whispered to Sèraphine to stay hidden and slipped into bed, falling asleep as soon as her head touched the pillow and leaving her with dreams about her new friend and what fun they were going to have together.

**A/N: French translations  
Maître = Master  
Je suis désolée = I am sorry**


	5. Secret Messages

**A/N: I had been hoping to update on Thurs, but my laptop broke and I'm still not sure whether everything on it has gone! Anyway, I managed to find this on my emails, so here it is :) Please let me know what you think! Also, I apologise if it sounds rushed. I've had a very busy and stressful week!  
Thanks to dionne dance, Maricella, lina love and the guest for reviewing. I always love to know what you guys think :) **

The next day, Angelique awoke with bleary eyes to her mother leaning over her, shaking her hard.

"For goodness sake, Angelique, it's as though you didn't sleep last night! Now, lève-toi! The family will be up soon, and you still have to go for your walk," she shouted, and Angelique forced herself to wake up.

"Yes, maman." She got up, her eyelids heavy and her limbs aching. Perhaps sneaking out had been a bad idea after all.

"What is wrong with you? You look dreadful, are you ill, child?" Lucille sounded frustrated as she frowned down at the girl.

"No, maman. I had trouble sleeping last night, that's all," she whispered, looking at the floorboards.

"Well, a walk will do you good. Now hurry up and get dressed." She turned away as Angelique got up and grabbed her dress, not wanting to anger her mother any further.

She washed and changed in record speed, and even her mother was surprised, although she didn't mention it. Instead, she didn't even look at her daughter as they walked out of their room and into the grounds.

It was a reasonably nice September morning, the grass was fresh with dew and the sun was just rising, casting orange light across the lawns. In fact, the only thing spoiling it was the nippy breeze whistling through the air that caused Angelique to shiver slightly as she huddled closer to her mother. She was finding it incredibly hard to keep her eyes open as they trudged round their usual route, watching the dull brick wall as they went past, then the beds full of dead flowers that had been so beautiful in the summer and the same old pond with no fish in it. Nothing ever changed.

When they were finally back in the warmth of the kitchen, Lucille left Angelique in the care of the cook, who the young girl had taken an instant liking to when she was younger, whilst she went and readied herself for the family calling on her.

The cook was a large, friendly woman, with messy brown hair always tied in a loose bun at the nape of her neck. She continuously smiled and beamed at everyone, but you still didn't want to get on the bad side of her. Angelique could remember once when she could hear Martha's shouting all the way up in the attic it was so loud.

"Breakfast, Angelique?" she asked, wiping her hands on her apron and turning to the young girl sat at the filthy wooden table.

"Yes, please." She smiled sweetly at the woman as she brought over a bowl of gruel, something Angelique had gotten used to the taste of over the years for she never got anything else for breakfast. She savoured each mouthful of the lumpy liquid, knowing she wouldn't get anything else until lunch, which was still over six hours away.

She was just scooping the last dregs into her mouth when her mother came through the door, dressed in her crisp white apron and cap, her hair pulled back into a tight bun, making her look more severe than ever.

"Are you finished, Angelique?" she asked, and then, not even waiting for an answer, whisked the bowl away and tugged the spoon from her grip. "The bell's just rung, now would you go up to our room and continue with your sewing, I'll come and check on you later. I expect that cross stitch to be done today, and something done about those eyes of the cat, they look dreadful."

"Yes, maman."

"Good, well, go on. No one wants you hanging around here. You're just in the way."

Angelique hung her head and muttered an apology.

"She's not in the way, Lucille. She probably gets lonely up there all alone," Martha put in. "She's alright to stay down here a few moments."

"No, Martha, she has a lot to be busy with. Go, Angelique. Now," she added, putting her hands on her hips when the young girl looked at her.

"Of course, maman," Angelique sighed and walked back up the stairs.

She found her sewing and sat down, ready to delve into another day of the same old same old, when Sèraphine's chirping sounded in the air. The young girl looked up excitedly, having completely forgotten the bird was still in the room as Sèraphine fluttered down and landed on her shoulder.

"Hello," she murmured fondly. However, Sèraphine twittered and swooped over to the window, hopping to look back at Angelique, who was frowning in confusion. Then it came to her. She wanted to go outside, but the window was shut. "Oh, I see."

She ran forward and, after quickly checking behind her, climbed on top of the wooden crate and reached up, this time being careful not to get her dress dirty. She opened the latch and pushed it open and, as soon as it was wide enough, Sèraphine took off, flying out into the weak sunshine and chirping as she dived downwards and out of sight.

Angelique wasn't too disappointed as she drew back from the window, she knew the little bird would be back before long, and so she settled down again, picked up her sewing and started to unpick one of the eyes.

* * *

A few hours later, Angelique had re-sewn the eye, and, even though it was still slightly wonky, she had made a start on the cross stitch her mother had requested. This particular stitch bored Angelique, it was so tedious and she ended up unpicking at least one every two or three she did.

Yawning, she stretched and put her sewing to one side as she got up and walked over to the window. Sèraphine hadn't been back, but the young girl had spotted the darting red and yellow bird out of the window a few times when she'd looked up.

The sun was high in the sky now, signalling that it must have been about midday. Her mother should be up in the next hour, she thought, to collect her for lunch. Her stomach rumbled at the thought.

She gazed off, her thoughts wandering to meeting Master Barnabas the night before. She had liked him, once he had shed his authoritative manner, and it was nice to have someone to talk to that was her own age. She certainly couldn't wait for the next meeting with him. It was going to be hard to contain her excitement around her mother, that was for sure.

Sèraphine tweeting in her ear had her jumping in shock, nearly falling off the crate. She had never heard the little bird come in. She took her arms of the ledge and smiled at the little thing, but it refused to move, continuing to nudge its head against the girl's arm. It was then she noticed that she had something tied to her leg. On closer inspection, Angelique realised it was a piece of paper that was tied with string and finished off in a little bow. She frowned as Sèraphine held out her leg to her.

"What's this? Who's it from?" she wondered aloud, half to herself, and half to the bird. Sèraphine only looked at her, so she pulled one of the loose ends and the string came unravelled.

Stepping down from the crate, she opened the paper and frowned. A few lines of a scribbled scrawl were jotted down on the paper. Angelique squinted, trying to distinguish the letters, and make the sounds her mother had taught her. The first word was easy.

"Angelique, w-hat are y-o-u do-ing at the mo-men-t," she started slowly. "I am…" She got stuck at the next word, for it was very long, so she frowned and tried splitting it up. "in-cred-i-bl-y, incredibly, bor-ed. Fat-her has m-e doing… a-rit-h-mac-y." Angelique stopped again. What was arit-h-mac-y? She was sure she hadn't said it right, but she had not a clue what it was and there was no one to ask.

She looked back to the bottom of the letter. She was pretty sure she knew who it was from already. As she sounded out the name, she got her confirmation. Barnabas.

Angelique knew where the quills were kept from when her mother was trying to teach her to write and dipping one into one of the bottles of ink, she started to write a reply with wobbly letters.

Barnabas

I am triing to sew a cat that mi mother iz making mee do, but yor noot has distracted mee. I am loking forwood to Thusday

Angelique

She sat back. She knew her mother would spot the many mistakes, but she didn't care, in fact she was rather proud of it and it wasn't as though her mother was going to see it anyway.

She skipped back over to where Sèraphine was waiting and tied the message to her leg before sending her off again. After she had disappeared, she cleared away the quill and ink and went to see if she could spot the little bird coming back. Of course, that was when her mother returned.

"Angelique Bouchard, are you deaf? Did I not tell you just yesterday not to climb on that crate?" she admonished, her hands on her hips as she watched her daughter scurry down and hang her head.

"Sorry, maman."

"Where's your sewing? Here?" She bent over and picked up the scrap of linen, her critical eye wandering over it, her eyebrows raised. "Well, it certainly is a lot better now you've sorted that eye. Is this the cross stitch? There's not a lot of it considering how long you've been up here."

"I keep getting it wrong and having to unpick it, maman. Je suis désolée."

Lucille sighed. "It comes with practise, Angelique. Practise and focus. Focus is not watching out of the window. Now, come on, before I decide that you should be practising more cross stitch instead of eating lunch." With that, she turned and walked out as Angelique hurried after her.

After she had finished eating, Lucille sent her back up to continue with her cross stitch with a threat that if she had not done enough by suppertime, then she would go without again. Sèraphine didn't return that afternoon either, and Angelique began to get anxious that something had happened to her.

When her mother returned once more, and had said Angelique had done enough to be able to have her supper, the girl went down with a heavy heart, worried Sèraphine had been killed by a cat or something. However, nobody seemed to notice as they ate. They were all too busy laughing, relieved another day was over and that they could rest for a few hours.

Finally, they retired for the night, and Angelique wearily following her mother back up to their room. Going in, Lucille picked up her nightgown, intending to go into the bathroom before the other maids got up. A chilly breeze brushed over them, making her turn back.

"We are going to be cold in our beds now that you've left that open, Angelique. You need to think, girl. Now close it."

"Sorry, maman," Angelique whispered, and walked over to do as she'd asked. She was just about to pull it shut when a tweet stopped her and Sèraphine flew down and landed on the window ledge. The girl pushed away her relief and beckoned the bird inside before shutting the window. She noted the bird had no reply on its leg, yet her note had gone. It seemed Barnabas must not have been able to reply.

"Shh, my mother will be back in a moment, make sure you're not seen," she told the bird and fetched her nightgown to be ready when Lucille came back. The little bird did as she was told and flew up into the eaves.

"Who are you talking to, Angelique?" Lucille's voice asked as she walked through the door.

Angelique jumped. "Oh, just myself."

"Perhaps you are too lonely if you are talking to yourself. Now go get ready for bed. You were tired this morning."

"Yes, maman." And with that, she went to wash and change.

Soon, she was ready for bed and after a light scolding from her mother for not being fast enough, she fell asleep as soon as her head hit the thin pillow.


	6. The Next Meeting

**A/N: This is nowhere near my best chapter and it will be edited! But I thought you would like an update after so long! I had really bad writer's block :( Anyway, please let me know how to make it better!  
Also, thanks to Maricella and dionne dance for reviewing the last chapter!**

Thursday came quickly and using Sèrpahine, her and Barnabas had reminded one another to meet down in the sitting room at midnight. All day, Angelique had been fidgeting with excitement and when her mother came back up in the evening to see how Angelique had done with her sewing, she was not happy by her progress.

"Angelique, you have done next to nothing!" she scolded. "What on Earth have you been doing all day?"

The young girl looked down. "I'm sorry, maman. For some reason, I have not been focused today. I don't know why."

The older woman rolled her eyes, but knew she could not punish her daughter for being a child and what the young girl _had _managed to do hadn't been bad at all. Not that she would tell her so, for giving a child like Angelique such compliments made her not quite so determined to do better. "Come on then, the others are already eating and if you hurry up, there might be enough left for you."

The young girl jumped off the bed, grateful that she wasn't going without her dinner and hurried out of the door just before her mother, just in case she decided to change her mind.

Dinner was the same as usual, the leftovers of the Collins' supper, mainly consisting of vegetables with a tiny bit of meat that had been clearly scraped off the bone. Although, she was lucky that she got any with her and her mother being the last down.

"How was your day then, Angie?" Martha asked as soon as her mother had disappeared to talk to one of the maids.

"It was alright," Angelique replied. "Same as always, but I wish I could do something other than sewing, I don't ever do anything else."

"How about I persuade your mother to let you come down here and help me a few times? It would be good experience for you if you are to become a working servant soon, even if you are a maid in the main house."

"I don't think she will let me. She wants me to learn to sew properly," the young girl sighed, pushing the last few vegetables around her plate. "She doesn't understand me."

"Your mother is a very hardworking woman, Angie. She is used to being strict with the other servants and she has a lot of responsibility. Sometimes, she is too hardworking and she thinks of you as just another servant whom she is trying to make as good as possible. She only wants the best for you, even if it doesn't seem that way most of the time." She came over to the young girl and placed a soothing hand on her back. "Your mother does love you, you know."

"I just don't understand why she is so mean to me. I try my best, I really do. I just want to play like other girls do, I want to have a doll and be able to run around on the streets like the ones I see out of the window."

She barely had time to put down her fork when Lucille's harsh voice cut into the room. "You are not a vagabond, Angelique, so don't say you want to act like one," she snapped and only Martha saw the hurt in the young girl's clear, blue eyes. "Come on, it's your bedtime. I expect a lot more sewing to be produced tomorrow than today and that won't happen if you're tired."

"Lucille, could I speak to you while Angelique gets ready for bed?" Martha asked as the girl got up and headed over to her mother.

The woman nodded curtly. "Angelique, go up. I'll be along soon," she ordered, watching as her daughter did as she was told.

Once out of sight from the kitchen, Angelique stopped and attempted to listen out for anything that would let her know what was going on, yet she could hear nothing and Angelique surmised that they must have been whispering. So, after a couple more minutes, she trudged up the next flight of stairs. That was until she heard her mother's voice screaming at Martha.

"How dare you tell me that I treat her too harshly! She is mine, lest you have forgotten! You have no right to talk to me in that way."

The voices lowered again as Martha spoke, but the damage was done. Angelique was sure the entire household must have heard those words and scuttled up the rest of the stairs, afraid that her mother would come storming up and find out that she had been trying to eavesdrop on them.

* * *

When Lucille finally mounted the stairs, her daughter was tucked up in bed, seemingly asleep. She was glad. How dare that woman tell her that her Angelique wasn't happy? Of course she was. She was the daughter of the Head Housekeeper, a reasonably high standing for a servant. She had a future planned out for her and a roof over her head. What more did she want?

She went over to the bed, and smoothing the young girl's dark hair from her forehead, she kissed her gently, all the while Angelique tried to keep her eyes closed.

When she finally went to wash and change, the young girl breathed a sigh of relief and turned over, facing the wall so her mother wouldn't be able to notice if she was still awake.

Barely ten minutes passed before her mother's familiar snores rumbled the air and Angelique could sneak down to meet Barnabas. Once again, she found herself admiring the many portraits adorning the walls. She was just studying the woman that must have been the grandmother of Barnabas when the young boy himself walked in.

"Are you still looking at those paintings? They're not that fascinating, you know," he told her matter-of-factly.

"They are!" Angelique protested. "We have nothing like this up where we live. The walls are just plain, I have never seen anything so pretty in my life!"

"I'll show you a painting that is really beautiful, if you would like?"

Angelique's eyes widened. "There is something more beautiful than this?" she asked.

"Yes, of course there is, my grandmother isn't that lovely."

Angelique's eyes widened ever more. "You can't say that!" she gasped, appalled that he could even consider criticising his grandmother in such a way.

"Yes, I can, she's my grandmother, besides it's true and I've always been told to tell the truth!" And with that remark, he marched out of the room, head held high, and expecting his friend to follow.

As they walked through the corridor, neither said a word, that was until they reached the painting. It really was beautiful. The large yellow sun lit up lush, green fields, dotted with flowers of blues, reds, purples. And then, to the left, the sweet country cottage with roses climbing around the doorway, the straw thatched roof, the little garden.

"Where is this?" Angelique breathed.

"The countryside. We have a house like that, but it's a lot bigger. That's where we go in the summer sometimes."

Angelique nodded, she knew that they had a full set off staff where they went during the summer as those few weeks were the only time during the entire year when her mother could spend time with her.

"You are so lucky to have such a place you can go to."

Barnabas wrinkled his nose. "Not really. It stinks of manure there. I much prefer this house and the city. At least the smell of the streets doesn't reach the house. In the countryside, it gets into the rooms and then up your nose. It makes Mother sneeze, you know. The only reason we go is for the fresh air."

"Oh." Angelique didn't quite know what to say. She would have loved to go, even if it did make her sneeze. It just looked so glorious.

"Come on, let's go. Where do you want to visit now? You've seen the dining room, the sitting room and the drawing room."

"What else is there?" the young girl asked, hurrying to keep up with Barnabas as he walked out.

"How about we go up here?" He stopped at the bottom of a grand staircase.

"No," Angelique said, stepping back and shaking her head. "No, what happens if we get caught?"

"We won't," he replied simply, then sighed when Angelique looked apprehensively up the stairs. "Oh, come on, don't be such a milksop!"

Angelique furrowed her brows. "What's a milksop?" she asked.

"Someone who's scared of everything." He didn't look at her and started up the steps. "Are you coming or not?"

The young girl knew she couldn't. "No, I can't, Barnabas. I don't want to get caught. Seeing downstairs is enough for the moment."

"I can't believe you!" he snapped before storming up the steps leaving Angelique to find her way back to the servant's quarters alone.

While she hurried through the corridors, she started to panic. What if he told on her? She would be in so much trouble with not only her mother, but the entire household. She could get her and her mother thrown out of the house in disgrace!

Stopping at the bottom of the servant's stairs, her fears took over and she let out a little sob of despair. What had she done? She should have known it was a bad idea to sneak out at night. Now all she could do was wait and pray Barnabas wouldn't say anything.


	7. Caught

**A/N: My thanks go to Caity for following and Linalove and Maricella for reviewing. :)**

Angelique woke the next morning, feeling tired and having a lump lodged firmly in her throat. That day, she was going to find out whether Barnabas had told on her or not. The thought that maybe she would have to leave behind everything she had ever known was a daunting thought and not one she wished to dwell on, so she got up, attempting to find something to do that would keep her mind off it.

After getting washed and changed, she sat down on her bed, wincing when it creaked loudly. Luckily, her mother didn't stir. What was she going to do today? She didn't want to sew. Not again. She wanted to do something different; something new. But the problem was, what else was there?

She doubted Martha had been successful in speaking to her mother yesterday, so being allowed to work anywhere else would be out of the question. That didn't leave a lot left that she could do. She could polish, perhaps ask her mother to practice her reading and writing, but apart from that, all there was was sewing.

Angelique sighed. It seemed she could do nothing else but the usual. At that point, she stood up in an attempt to sneak to the window to get a glance out before her mother woke up. However, as she tiptoed over, she forgot about the incredibly loud, squeaky floorboard and it let out a low groan as she stepped on it.

"Angelique? Is that you?" Lucille sat up slowly, rubbing her eyes. "What on Earth are you doing, child?"

The young girl looked down sheepishly. "I couldn't sleep, so I got up early. I didn't mean to wake you, maman. Je suis désolée." She braced herself for harsh words, but they never came. Instead, Lucille relaxed and propped herself up on her elbow.

"Oh, what am I going to do with you, you silly child? Is there something on your mind?"

"No, maman," Angelique replied a little too quickly. Luckily, it seemed her mother didn't notice.

"Well, after the talk with Martha, I've decided that it would do you good to spend some time in the kitchen with her and get to know the world of work."

The young girl stared at her mother with wide eyes. "Really? I don't have to do sewing?"

The look on her daughter's face made Lucille laugh, something that made Angelique's jaw drop. Her mother never smiled, let alone laughed.

"No, Angelique, no sewing today. It doesn't mean you won't be working hard though." She raised an eyebrow at her daughter.

"Of course not, maman."

"Good. Well, if you just wait for me to change, then I can take you for your walk and then to Martha."

"Yes, maman," Angelique smiled, sitting down on the edge of her bed patiently as Lucille got up and headed to the servants' small bathroom.

* * *

"Remember to behave yourself, Angelique. I don't want to hear from Martha that you've been a nuisance."

"Of course she won't be, Lucille," Martha replied for the young girl, pulling her against her. "She's going to be a lot of help. She'll make you proud."

Angelique felt very grateful to Martha and nodded in agreement when her mother looked at her, before setting her shoulders square.

"Well, I'll see you later then, Angelique."

"Yes, maman."

She waited until Lucille was out of sight before turning back to Martha, a big grin on her face.

"What should I do first?" she asked.

"Well, shall I teach you how to peel the potatoes for breakfast to start with?"

Angelique nodded eagerly and followed Martha to a spare work surface.

* * *

By the time her mother came down to collect her so they could eat supper, Angelique was happier than she had been in a long time, her face was flushed and her eyes were lit up and smiling.

"Have you been good for Martha, then, Angelique?" Lucille asked her, but she didn't get any time to answer before the lady herself came up behind her.

"She was no trouble at all, been a lot of help actually. Everything's been running extra smooth with this one helping out," she said proudly, ruffling the young girl's hair.

"Well, that's certainly good to hear. Although, there's something I need to talk to you about Angelique, but it will have to wait until we are alone later on."

The young girl swallowed, from the look in her mother's eye, she could tell it was something bad and her mind suddenly switched back to her meeting with Barnabas last night. Had he…? Angelique tried to force her horror down. She obviously hadn't lost her place as she hadn't come in raging, but there was something wrong.

"I will be very happy to have her again in here, Lucille. She has been a pleasure to work with and a very quick learner," Martha put in quickly, sensing the tension between mother and daughter.

"Yes, well I will consider it. Come on, Angelique, there will be no food left if we don't go down now." And with that, she put her arm round the young girl's shoulder and led her down to the servant's dining quarters.

Dinner was quiet. Barely any of the usually gossiping maids were talking, not even in hushed whispers and Angelique got the feel that something had happened that day up in the main house and she could only pray that it was nothing to do with her.

By the time Lucille had finished and the two had retired for the night, Angelique was full of dread. She could almost feel herself shaking as she mounted the stairs behind her mother and when they entered the room, she went and sat quietly on her bed, waiting for her mother to speak.

"Is there something wrong, Angelique? You seem particularly worried," Lucille said, untying her apron and folding it up.

"You said you wished to speak to me when we were downstairs."

"I did, but I was going to wait until you were ready for bed. Nevermind, it looks as though you want to hear it, so I'll say it now." She sat down. "You see, there was a disturbance this morning in the drawing room. It seemed that a bird had managed to find its way in and was causing havoc, making the girls waiting on Lady Collins scream and fuss. In the end, they called me and I managed to get the bird out, but as I was carrying the little thing out, I realised it was familiar. Do you know why I found it familiar, Angelique?"

The young girl shook her head, feeling utterly confused. Why was her mother telling her about a bird? What was so important about that? Hadn't Barnabas told on her at all?

"It was a very unusual bird, everyone commented on the strange crimson and ochre colouring." She raised an eyebrow at her daughter as Angelique gasped before she could stop herself. "I did recognise it, Angelique. Would you like to explain why a bird you had been sewing ended up flying around the drawing room this morning?"

"I don't know how it happened, maman. One minute I was thinking about what it would be like to have a bird of my own and the next minute it was flying round the room. Please, you have to believe me!"

"Why didn't you tell me, girl? Do you know the Master is very suspicious? He thinks that sorcery is involved!"

"Mais, maman, je ne l'ai pas fait exprès!" Angelique cried in horror and Lucille sighed, calming herself down.

"Angelique, speak English if you please, you cannot slip into French every time you panic."

The young girl looked down. "I'm sorry, maman."

"I assumed you didn't mean to do it, and I'm not angry about what you did, I'm angry that you didn't tell me. You see, there is something important I needed to tell you…" Her voice dropped to a whisper. "… your father was a sorcerer."

Angelique's eyes went wide. "Papa had magic?" she asked in disbelief.

"Keep your voice down," Lucille hissed. "Yes, he had magic. I was hoping it wouldn't be passed onto you, but it seems it has. The thing is, Angelique, this is dangerous. No one can find out, for if they do, your life will be endangered. I've told you the stories."

The young girl shivered, remembering the many times Lucille had come home from the town after witnessing an accused witch being tortured or burnt at the stake. It was no secret what happened to those who had magic and were found out.

"You must promise me not to say anything to anybody, for your own safety and for my sake. I… well, I… can't lose you as well."

Angelique's bottom lip trembled slightly at her mother's words. It was the first time the housekeeper had ever said anything to indicate that she did indeed love her daughter.

"I promise, maman, no one will ever know."

"That's my girl." Lucille reached forward and pulled her daughter into a hug, the first one Angelique could ever remember her mother giving her, and pressed her lips to the young girl's hair, just content in holding her… loving her for a few moments.

**A/N: French translation: 'Mais, maman, je ne l'ai pas fait exprès.' = But mother, I didn't mean to do it.  
I apologise if it is wrong in any way, and any corrections would be appreciated as I am not fluent in french, however much I wish I was.**


	8. The Book

**A/N: Sorry for the delay, just got really stuck half way through this chapter. Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy, please review :)  
And thanks to Redangel14, The Chandelier Fell, dionne dance and the guest :)  
In reply to the Guest's question: I've planned it all out and it's going to be roughly 33 chapters.**

Angelique didn't see much of her mother the next two days and nor did Lucille allow her to work in the kitchens with Martha, saying she could either practise her sewing or her reading and writing. Now that she knew what Angelique was and until she could control it, she would have to stay out of everyone's way.

She did, however, still have Sèraphine to keep her company. After her little bit of excitement the day before, the little bird didn't want to stray far from Angelique and this time, the young girl didn't have to worry about her mother finding out. So the little thing continually fluttered round the room while Angelique was writing, occasionally coming down and twittering loudly in the young girl's ear, making her jump every time.

"Look, why don't you just go outside for a little while?" Angelique asked crossly after Sèraphine's cheeping nearly made her upset her ink bottle. She got up and opened the window. "Come back when you're not going to be so irritating, but don't go into the house again. Maman would be furious."

Angelique was surprised when the bird actually did as she had asked and flew out of the window as the young girl settled back down to practising writing her letters.

* * *

A few hours later, much to Angelique's surprise, her mother came in. She glanced outside, the sun was nowhere near close to reaching the highest point in the sky, so it couldn't be noon yet.

"Is everything alright? Nothing's happened, has it?" she asked, worried that someone had found out about Sèraphine.

"No, no, I've finished my chores for this morning and I wanted to give you something. It belonged to your father and he wanted me to give it to you if you ever inherited his… powers."

Angelique stood up, intrigued, as her mother knelt down in between the beds and took up one of the wooden floorboards. Underneath lay a single, very old and worn, book.

"Here it is." Her voice lowered. "It's all to do with controlling the sorcery. I think it will be useful to you."

She handed it over and Angelique nearly dropped it, not realising how heavy it actually was.

"So this actually belonged to Papa?" she asked, a lump forming in her throat. He had died when she was three, so she hadn't many memories of him. All she could remember was that he used to tell her stories every night when he tucked her in, something her mother had never done for her.

"Yes, my dear, it did. You remind me of him so much. You have his eyes, his smile, his hair…" She trailed off and Angelique could see that tears were glistening in her eyes.

Putting the book down on her bed, she reached forward and put her arms round the Housekeeper in an act of comfort, to which Lucille returned.

"He loved you so much, you know," she whispered. "His only regret was that he couldn't spend more time with you, his only child. He made me promise that if you were ever to show any sign of inheriting his abilities, then I would give you this. Part of me hoped I would never have to. You must understand that this is very dangerous and I plead with you to learn to control it and do nothing more. If you're caught… well you know what happens to those accused of being witches."

"Yes, maman." The young girl pulled back from her mother's embrace. They had discussed this only a few days before and Angelique wished to change the topic. Her dreams that night had been plagued with the stories her mother had told her, only ending up with her on the stake. Fortunately she had woken up before anything else had happened, but it had still left her gasping for breath in the middle of the night with no way to get back to sleep.

"Good. Well, I have to go back downstairs. There is no doubt they will be needing me soon and up here I am quite unreachable. Please read it, Angelique, and when you're done, hide it back beneath the floorboards. No one can find it, do you understand?"

"Of course, maman." Was her mother actually frightened? Angelique thought to herself as the woman got up and walked out. Was that why she was acting so strangely? Was she frightened that her daughter would be caught and sentenced to death for witchcraft at the age of six, or for the fact she would lose her job and quite possibly be accused herself?

Once her mother had gone, she settled down on the bed to read the book. Luckily for Angelique, a lot of it was described in pictures, meaning she could understand it. The spells themselves, however, she would have to get her mother to help her with. They were too long and complicated for a girl of six years, especially one of lower class at that.

The familiar twittering of Sèraphine eventually had her looking up and putting the book down. The little bird had a note tied to her leg. A note from Barnabas. With her nerves jittering, she went over to untie it, certain it was going to say that he had told on her and that she was going to be thrown out of the house.

With trembling fingers, she unrolled the thin scrap of parchment and let her eyes read over it slowly, spelling out each word in her head.

Dear Angelique,

I wanted to apologise for last night. I shouldn't have tried to order you to do that. I'm just not used to having friends, and I'm used to my father telling me to act like a man of the household and order people below me what to do. I must have got carried away, and I sincerely apologise, but I have not told anyone of our meetings.

Yours, Barnabas

Although Angelique couldn't read some of the words, she still got the gist of what he was trying to say, and with a huge smile, hurried to fetch her old, second hand quill, desperately in need of sharpening, and started replying on the back of what the young boy had sent, crossing out his message first so he knew that she had got it. She couldn't believe that he hadn't said anything!

Barnabas

I apologise also, I shouldn't have spocken to you the way I did, it waz not my plase.

Angelique

Quickly, she attached it back to Sèraphine's leg and sent her on her way again, hoping for a quick response this time. She didn't dare stand at the window in case her mother came back, like the time before, so she sat back down with her book and continued to read.

She got so engrossed in a spell that seemed to create a gorgeous, satin gown of any colour out of an old dress, that she didn't see the little bird return until she was chirping loudly in her ear, having landed on her shoulder.

"Alright, Sèraphine, I know you're there now, you can be quiet," Angelique told the bird sternly, worried that the noise she was making would disturb any other servants up in the attic. Then she turned and untied the new scrap of parchment, opening it out so she could read it.

Dear Angelique

You don't need to apologise, we're friends and I treated you wrongly. I want us to be equals when we meet. Speaking of which, do you want to meet up again this Thursday? I really hope you do, I enjoyed having another friend to talk to. It gets lonely in this house with no other children to talk to and I'm sure you get lonely even though you have Sèraphine.

Anyway, I await your reply

Barnabas

The young girl gasped. He still wanted to meet with her! She hadn't lost her only friend. He hadn't told on her. Her mother wasn't about to lose her position in the household. It seemed as though everything had changed for the better and, so, with a light heart, she sat down to write her reply to tell him she would be in the dining room at midnight on Thursday.


End file.
